Monday, April 13, 2009

The stranger

I see from the most recent poll that quite a few of you have a secret fantasy to be taken roughly by a stranger. I'll tell you a story I've never told before, and you can decide if it would really be for you. This is definitely not the Harlequin romance "rape" fantasy carried around by some women.

I was 20, naive and stupid, and I hadn't learned how to fight. In other words, I couldn't control a "rough taking" for my own purposes, as I have sometimes done later. It was a typical late spring Saturday night in college, bar-hopping with girlfriends, cockteasing, drinking. I vividly remember everything, right down to what I was wearing: a khaki miniskirt and tight olive-green top, braless. I had a boyfriend at the time, but had gone out with some female friends. We were in one of the bars near campus; it was late and we were flirting with some of the louts from town. They desperately wanted to fuck us, and quietly hated us because they thought we felt we were above them (and we were). Still, there was much laughing, touching, propositioning...my pal Heather was giving each man a kiss after she did a shot of Jager.

I broke off to go pee. The bar had two unisex bathrooms with locks on the doors. I waited for a girl to finish in one and went in, starting to close the door behind me.

I never got that far.

A man was right behind me and pushed me inside, locking the door behind us. I let out a shriek but it was drowned out by the band. He was only a little taller than me, but very muscular and stocky, with skin so black it shone. I barely had noticed him hovering on the edge of our little group out at the bar. He was very drunk and I smelled the beer and cigarettes on his breath as he shoved me against the wall and mashed his mouth against me, pushing a thick, long tongue between my teeth. I flailed my arms ineffectually as he pulled up my top and roughly sucked on my nipples.

I was pinned and knew I was in real trouble, and my mind wasn't really working. Was I being raped? The thought never really came into play. Everything was overwhelmed by this masculine force and the primal insistence on what he wanted. He pushed me hard against the wall as he grabbed at my legs, fondling me under my skirt, getting big fingers under my panties.

Then I was spun hard toward the sink, barely reaching out to grab on before I ended up on the floor. I stared at the dirty porcelain as I felt my panties being literally ripped off. Then the hem of my miniskirt was pushed up on my hips and I was forced forward. His strong legs spread me almost like a cop ready to perform a frisk -- but that wasn't what he was about. A voice in my head: "You're going to get fucked..." And then, over the music, he yelled the exact words, adding some choice misogynistic terms.

He stood close behind me. Then there was a sudden, searing pain in my pussy. I didn't even have time to feel his cock about to enter me. The air was knocked out of me and I felt my pussy walls straining to fit him. I wasn't even very wet at that moment -- and I was wet almost all the time back in those days. It took several strokes before the lubrication made it easier, but he was hung and fucked like a thug. Hard and fast and like I wasn't even there. I was bent forward, heaving out with every stroke, but his strong grip was on my hips and there was always another "in" stroke coming. Sometimes it went painfully up to my cervix. I was completely in his control. I felt like his cock was so thick it would split me, a feeling that only gradually eased as I got dripping wet and my pussy changed to accommodate such a big one. I looked down and saw his pants at his ankles, undulating on the floor to his movements inside me.

I hung onto the edges of the sink and looked up to see my face, grimacing with each pounding of his shaft. Behind me, he looked smug and angry as he fucked me standing up, his mouth half open, grinning when he saw me watching us. My little skirt was hiked high and the black of his hands were amazing in contrast to the peaches-and-cream paleness of my ass. I had a little orgasm in spite of myself, which just made him fuck me more roughly.

Just as the band finished the set the room was silent enough for me to hear him grunt loudly, and I felt several spurts of semen going deep into me. Thank God I was on the pill. He kept fucking me, slower now, for several minutes, and I think he even came again. By this time my forehead was down on my arm, my eyes closed. I didn't want to look.

He pulled out as roughly as he had entered. As he pulled up his pants, I got a look at his big cock, with little ridges and swirls of our white juices on it. Even deflating, it was the biggest one I had seen so far. Then he opened the door, showing me still proned out over the sink, my legs opened, cum starting to run down my leg. I could hear his buddies applauding and knew they were debating whether to come in and take turns. Somehow I got enough strength to slam the door and lock it. I sat on the toilet and watched his semen dribble out. I didn't know how I was supposed to feel. Angry? Guilty? I mostly felt numb, and very sore. Later, as I walked back to my dorm -- my ripped panties gone, he took them as a trophy -- he kept dribbling out of me, down my shaking legs.

I was raped then and now I'd cut his balls off with a combat knife. But I'd be a liar if I didn't admit to looking back on that encounter and feeling a little aroused by the memory. People are weird that way. And as some readers have told me, I do have a latent submissive side.

17 comments:

When I was 17, I went to a big city park after closing time. My date and I spread out a blanket to watch the stars, and we were making out when several men approached. They looked like gang members and had guns. They beat my date up and handcuffed him while they took turns with me. I resisted some but was scared to death, so I didn't really fight. Three of them fucked me twice each, and one fucked me three times, including once in my anus. Once was in the ass. I also had to suck them all off, and one came in my mouth. We called the cops and they took a report. I wasn't hurt, but I had so much come inside me, on my legs, across my face. I did have a couple of orgasms during the thing. My date called me a slut for going along and we never saw each other again. I was sore for a week. I never had a rape fantasy after that. It was a long time before I could be with a guy again, and I still can't handle anal sex.

And yes, they made my date watch the whole thing. At first they held me down while one, then another fucked me. Then when I gave up, they just started sucking my nipples while another one was inside me. I was ordered on my knees, and they fucked me that way, too. I did it all. I was afraid they'd kill us both. Ruined the guy's blanket. I wondered years later if he was aroused seeing me taken that way, even though his manhood was shattered. Jerk.

First off Linda Sue thank you for you honesty and boldness to be completely open about the event. Its good to keep all of the fantasies of rape in perspective.. Melissa, thank you as well for the same reasons. That you are both able to write about it is a testament of how strong you are.I recently read the NY Times magazines article entitled What Women Want and it completely changed my understanding of female sexuality. In regards to Anonymous: Dude, grow some balls!

I feel safe on Linda's site telling my own story (even with the occassional woman-hating commenter).

My situation wasn't horrific. So take it as just another angle on how complex life can be.

This happened when I was 16. Felt very grown up and very sure of myself. I knew the effect I had on men and played it to the max. Was still a virgin. I had a crush on one of my father's golfing buddies. He was handsome, very buff, very confident and smart and funny. I fantasized about him, and flirted whenever he was around.

He and his wife were among a group at our beach house that summer, and I made sure he saw me plenty in the skimpiest of bikinis. Well, one day I came back from the beach and the house was empty -- everybody was gone. Except for "John." He was working on his laptop, and I came behind him and put my hands on his shoulders: "Whatcha working on..." He took my arms and pulled me down to him, and gave me the most adult and passionate kiss.

He literally carried me into his bedroom and before I knew it, skimpy bikini was on the floor and he was all over me. I panicked and started resisting, but he was having none of it. He was out of his shorts in a flash and his cock was hard against my leg as he kissed me, fondled my tits, kissed my neck, sucked and bit my nipples. He was holding me down and I was resisting less and less. He dropped down and licked my pussy, giving me a much stronger orgasm than I ever had masturbating. I wasn't resisting anymore. Now I was after him.

"You're just as tight as I thought you'd be," he panted as he worked his cock into me. There was a moment of discomfort and then it felt just GREAT. He fucked me with great tenderness...and the second time he fucked me like mad. I sucked his cock, too. We never were intimate again after that summer, and I never told him I was a virgin. But I still look back fondly. I was a cocktease, too, Linda, and like being submissive when I want it...only then. Love it when a man I am into really wants it, takes it from me.

So not a stranger, and not exactly forced. But what a great introduction to all the fucking I've done since then.

I have to say despite the fact that you were being raped it turned me on immensely. Maybe because I read it with the thoughts of the sexual animal lust that took place and not the aggressive abusive criminal act that took place.

In my opinion being forcefully led to the act of sex can be quite a turn on for both men and women but there is a fine line between that and rape and unfortunately most men cannot define the boundary between the two and sadly some men don't want to either.

I have on numerous occasions fantasized about raping women I know and strangers I have seen in public and even joked about it. But, thankfully I know where to draw the line and I have never raped anyone.

However, there is something very arousing about taking another purely for your self sexual gratification. I guess that is why there are so many fetishes that cater to this sort of sex.

I started dating a woman once and we got to the mad makeout level. But she was totally passive, and I couldn't get any vibes in return to go further. I asked her, "So you want me to force myself on you?" She said, "Yes." I stopped things there. Just couldn't get into it. I guess she wanted some kind of deniability in her own mind for what would happen. I was younger then, and later probably would have "taken" her. She didn't want to be raped, just taken. Maybe I was stupid.

Lurker here. I met a girl in a bar very much like Linda. I was blue-collar, she was college. Very flirty and touchy. We went into the parking lot an we're making out in the car, then suddenly she wants to stop. I say fine. So she sulks and stays there. I'm horny and say what the hell. Ended up fucking her. She was putting up this fake resistence BS but loving it. Came screaming, holding me inside her tight as can be. For years I had the imprints of her shoes on the roof liner of the car. Great memory. She never knew my name.

Wow, this was very difficult to read. I'm very sorry this happened to you. I have never been fully raped by a stranger or someone I know, but I was once involved with a man while married, who I had a wonderful sex relationship with, until one day it went horribly wrong. I was not on the pill as hubby and I had been unable to conceive in the 5 years we had been trying, so he always used condoms. One afternoon we were having incredible sex when he suddenly got angrily frustrated, said he could not feel anything with the condom on and hastily removed it and inserted himself back in me. I told him no repeatedly to no avail, and screamed at him to remove himself from me, pushed and struggled under his weight, but he was far too strong and had too solid of a position on me. I eventually quit fighting and just took to begging him to please not cum inside me. Something told me he was determined to anyway, and I began crying and begging him not to, and his only response was to put his hands under my ass and hold me firmly in place as his orgasm approached and he buried himself in me and grunted like an animal as his sperm flooded my insides. When he was finished and pulled out, he apologized saying he simply could not control himself. Even though I had willingly consented to sex, I did not consent to taking his sperm inside me, and I felt raped for having been forced to take it. So on some level, I definitely relate to what you went through.

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I'm the sophisticated, educated woman in the power suit during the day...and you might know me as Linda.
Beneath it, I'm hornier at 40 than I was at 19, and telling strangers about my love life is therapy from my button-down professional world.
These are true stories. Only the names of the lovers have been changed to protect the (sometimes) innocent.
I welcome your comments and questions (ask me anything, really).